Masked
by Just Lovely
Summary: AU. Love fools and taunts, pokes and prods; but being masked is the same as being invisible. Nothing can touch you, see you, or shock you.


**Disclaimer:** not mine

_Masked_

**By: _Just Lovely._**

...

It hides her face, her identity. It's not strong nor weak, but in-between. It's her escape, her freedom, her 'other' world. And without it, she is only Tenten.

It's a thing people called a 'facade'.

It's a thing where you hide behind so no one knows who you are.

It's her mask. And with it, no one can suspect or figure out a thing.

...

Tenten. She's a tomboy with luscious chocolate brown hair and curious hazel eyes. She pokes and prods, she has a reputation that she upholds and she wouldn't let anything tear it down.

Neji. He is a prodigy, a genius, or something of the sort with long coffee brown hair and pale, lavender tinted eyes. He is stoic and talks in monotone, observant and teasing; he catches just the smallest little details.

...

The ballroom is decorated in soft dimming lights with little glitter snowflakes hanging from wire on the ceiling. And there's fake snow littered around in the corners, the back wall provides a photo shoot with the refreshments table on the side. The room is circular, most like those ballrooms of the olden days where palaces hosted the most exquisite and extravagant dances; most befitting to the masquerade dance that is open to the public.

She is wearing a beautiful green dress, the satin just barely gracing the floor, soft and smooth against her hand and she can't help but laugh as she twirls in the fabric. Her brown hair is down and curled, softly bouncing up in the air as she whirls in his arms and her mask is taut on the upper portion of her face. Her hazel eyes are ablaze with mirth, her lips open in dimple laughter.

There's a surge of excitement and adrenaline coursing through her veins, through her blood, through her body that she can't describe. It's warm and it makes the surface of her skin tingle with a burst of happiness, it makes her want to smile and grin like mad; she wants to spend the rest of her night in his arms, dancing in circles, spinning until the clock can't toll anymore. It's the dancing that makes her like this, happy and rejuvenated. But with his presence there, in front of her, spinning with her, she's not sure if it's the same.

She locks eyes with him, orbs clashing in a shock of electricity.

He is smooth and sharp in a white dress shirt, a black blazer and black dress pants, converse on his feet; with the ever so rare smirk on his face. A mask over top the top half of his visage, eyes glimmering with amusement, lips curved up in a sudden joy. And he can't help but feel _right_ on the dance floor, with her in his arms, with the moment being perfect, pressed together.

It's a course of chilling sensations that run up and down his arms where she touches and it's not unwelcoming, quite the opposite, actually. He feels a shock, a burst of fireworks that erupt in rainbow colours and he can see her smiling at him. A grin, really, stretching her pink lips up; and he feels like it's just for him, only him.

He can't describe the feeling that came after their first meeting, he can't describe how he's feeling with her, around her, about her. All he can say for certain, is that she affects him in more ways than any other woman has ever.

...

She vanishes into the night, a fading green spot that slowly disappears into the distance and he watches. Watches with perceptive eyes, taking in the little details into memory, his arm still outstretched into the air in front of him, fingers so close to grabbing her, so close but not fast. He feels at a lost, without her beside him any longer and there's a small pang in his chest but as he curls his fingers into his palm and thinks; there's always the final outcome to look forward to.

...

It's morning. The sun is bright and golden rays filter through her window curtains, steady and happy. Tenten looks up at the white ceiling of her room, blankets hide her from the brightness and she sighs tiredly, hazel orbs glancing at the shimmering satin that hangs on a hanger in her closet, just barely a crack is visible and she is immediately flooded with memories and emotions of last night. The static shock and the familiarity. She smiles to herself, it was a memorable night, but she wouldn't have any more of those for a little while; because right then, up until the next event, she is Tenten. The tomboy who doesn't go to dances or wear pretty, satin dresses.

...

Neji looks through the tinted windows of the car, his hands on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road; but the sun is too bright, too happy to be ignored. He can't help but feel the same way, a whimsical smirk appears on his lips, twisting and forming quietly in the pale contrast of his features. His skin tingles in a lighted anticipation, he can still feel the soft, slippery satin of her green dress underneath his fingers, he can still see her wide hazel eyes, full lipped smile in his eyes. His head is swarmed with images, pictures, blurred edged surroundings of her.

She is like a drug to him, he's addicted to her; he couldn't get enough. His hands clench and he pushes down the pedal until he is speeding up the road, trees whirring by and houses fading into the edges. He wonders what he will find in the mysterious girl.

...

She stands by her locker, her brown hair in its usual buns, her hazel eyes still wide with curiosity and her lips in a neutral line. She blocks everything out from around her, she doesn't need to hear gossip about who was dancing with who at the dance last night, or who looked the best, who looked the worst. It's trivial and it doesn't matter but what her ears hear catches her attention in one fluid motion.

"Did you see him last night?" the brunette, - Tenten's age - whispers to her friend.

They are huddled close together, her blond hair mixing in with the brunette's chestnut locks; high voices in not-so-loud whispers. "Yeah, he was hot and that girl, her dress was so pretty. Do you know where she got it?"

It takes her a minute to realize what the subject is and what exactly they were talking about. It's her, and her partner, who she knows but can't put a finger on to his identity.

"Eavesdropping again Tenten?" he whispers quietly into her ear, tinted lavender irises watching the group of girls with distaste.

"No." she mutters, "It's not eavesdropping if they aren't even whispering or trying to hide the fact that they're gossiping about people."

"Aa." Neji says in an offhanded manner, seemingly to care less as he turns to his locker, spinning the dial on the lock.

"So...did you go?"

He rummages around the cavity as he neatly piles textbooks onto the shelves, hesitating for a moment as her words reach his ears. "Where?"

"The dance, Neji." she clarifies, leaning against the side of the locker.

"Hn."

"That's not an answer."

He looks at her through his peripheral vision, a slight challenging notion if she'll question him further. "Did _you_?"

"_Hn_." she smiles at him and walks off as the first bell rings overhead.

...

It's almost like she knows what ticks him off. Like she knows what will perch him perfectly on the edge of blowing off his cool. But he won't. Because he's Hyuuga Neji. And that's all that keeps him sane.

It's not the fact that not knowing whether she went or not that bothers him, no; it's more like the fact that she – everything about her – bothers him. It's aggravating and frustrating that she can be so _comfortable_ around him when others cannot, that she is just as happy around him as the blond idiot clown they call Uzumaki Naruto. It's a small sucker punch to his ego but there's something about her that makes him...want to maybe keep her around.

Just because. But friendships _are_ like that, aren't they?

...

She gazes out the window during last period, her attention solely on the drifting wind and the swept up Fall leaves of red, brown, yellow and orange. Tenten doesn't really pay attention in this class, the mathematics and all the formulas and equations. She's not a genius, but she's not stupid either so it's a piece of cake for her to solve the 'hard' equation that the teacher writes in white chalk on the board. Easy for her to just solve it in a matter of minutes with the teacher gaping and the students gawking. She's good with hiding things and covering up anything that might slip. She's quite calm and collected, impassive, really.

She's a _hider_ – for lack of a better term.

The class is crowded when the final bell rings and everyone hurries out. Shoulders bumping and shoes stepping on shoes, she's a girl with twin brown buns on the top of her head and curious hazel eyes. She's a hider that's good at what she does and knows how to do what she does best.

But no one really remembers _minor_ details like that.

...

It's a club this time. Not a hotel ballroom, but a club, with flashing lights and cloudy fog. She's dressed in an off the shoulder dress that stops mid-thigh with silver etching black leggings. Her eyes are done up prettily in smooth make-up, and she doesn't look the way she usually does. Her hair is messy, sticking to her forehead with sweat as she dances and moves in time to the pounding beat that bounces off the walls. It's a high tempo, fast and contagious. It's tightly packed, heads are bobbing and bodies are grinding but she's just dancing by herself, in flashing blue and green lights.

Dancing is her escape from her life, from a strong reputation. She's done this so many times – too many to count – and she never gets tired from it. There's something about the dancing that makes her heart pump in an excitement that isn't from lust or thrill, it's just a constant movement that keeps her going and going.

Her hands are up and her hair is falling around in flat waves and suddenly, his hands are at her waist.

She looks carefully at him, behind the halo of brown tresses she can see his lavender tinted eyes and his rare smirk. She gives him a small grin of her own as the night wears on, the clock tolls but she doesn't stop until it gets too late and the club is closing and nearly everyone is gone. Her eyelids are heavy with fatigue and his hand is still at her waist, almost possessive but protective. She doesn't know what to make of that, but the certain feeling she gets is something like feeling special because she feels secure and safe in his arms. A stranger's arms. And she can see his eyes and the dark coffee colour of his hair.

He's a pretty sight, that much she can say without being too judgmental. But she's not all that into looks, maybe a little wit – something that sparks – would make him more realistic than a dream; because he seemed just like that. Too _unreal_, like a figment of her imagination.

She can feel the late hour catching up to her and she smiles, feeling a little burst of excitement as she leans forward and brushes her lips against his.

It's not a kiss made in a drunken stupor, it's a spur of the moment kiss; a one-time only kiss, a memento to remember and then she's gone again. His mind is still hazy and a little out of the loop, but he can still see hazel eyes and brown hair with the faint scent of cinnamon lingering on his hands and on his lips.

She's familiar enough to him that he thinks he'll never forget her. Because with his heart pounding and his head a little foggy, she's the spark of light that he sees amidst the blurriness.

...

When the sun reaches the horizon and lets its rays stretch in golden glows across the plains, she stares out the window with sleepy eyes. There are small smudges of a blackish blue tinge under her eyes and her head spins a little. She looks up at the ceiling where it used to be starch white and now is scrawled with black sharpie. Words formed with her loopy handwriting that zigzags around the space – of life, of feelings, of mixed words and twisting of emotions; this is the way she expresses herself.

Tenten crawls out the bed with a little reluctance, her hand rubs against her eyes and comes away with black spots; make-up that she forgot to take off the other night. She runs her hand under the tap in the bathroom and splashes the cold water onto her face; it's refreshing and it's cool against her skin as her memories catch up to her.

It's foggy around the edges but she remembers enough to make her face heat up and turn a tomato red.

Vaguely and without a second thought, her hand fingers her lips where she can still feel his against them. She doesn't know why she did it, why she leaned forward and did what she did; but she doesn't regret it.

For, it's a reminder for the next time.

...

His mind is full of errant thoughts where she seems to pop up in between them all. But there's a sharp jab in his mind where he _knows_ he's seen her before, met her before, been with her before. And it wasn't under the impression of a dance or anything akin to that. Neji knows it, he's absolutely sure but he needs more proof, more evidence that he knows her. Because someone like him is as sharp as a knife but never dull, and he's got a sneaking suspicion of who it is.

The brown hair and the pair of hazel eyes seem to say it all. But there's nothing like a good tease to figure it out.

He lets a small smirk form onto his lips and can't shake the feeling of falling in love out of his mind; because in there, somewhere, is the fact that he fell in three quick meetings that seemed to last a couple lifetimes.

...

She can't think, not as much as she usually can. She can't concentrate because she still has a smell of ivory soap and spice all around her. And it's all about him, him who she knows but her mind just can't wind around the name.

It's a little frustrating that Tenten doesn't know him, she knows his scent, his touch and his overall appearance but she doesn't know _him_; the identity, the face behind it all.

But she's not one to back down so easily; so with her mind set and her thoughts pondering, the word love seems to hold more meaning than ever.

...

It's in the big gym of the school this time.

The decorations are lacking but the dancing is still going. Little paper red hearts dot the limestone walls, and red and scarlet glitter is falling all around; it's not as packed as the club, it's not as fancy as the ballroom but the masks are still on and the fun has just begun.

...

She can't tell when she found herself looking at him but the eyes and the smirk are still there, and so she smiles. Brown hair tumbles down her back in wavy lengths as the beat is pounding into the walls and all around her. It's sensational, and she looks curiously at him in a way that makes him stare back at her with a charming smirk; curious enough to want to know, but not enough to pry and ask her.

She's not swayed by the fact though, so she links her hands around his neck as he places his hands at her waist and they sway to and fro despite the much faster tempo all the other dancers are swinging to.

"I know who you are," he murmurs quietly, quiet out of the blue; but that's just like him, blunt and careful.

She strains her ears to hear him and as the words process into her brain, she's a little shocked. "Really,"

"Hn,"

His mere response is a clear clue as to who he is, the monotone voice is a low baritone and she's heard it before. She gives a small, sneaky smile; "I know who you are too." because she knows it would have led to something like this.

There's sneaking suspicion in the undertone of a playful laughter. And they're standing motionless in a moving crowd, eyes caught in each others', unspoken words lingering in the air.

"Can't blame it on the little details," she said, eyes twinkling and smiling in a bright rainbow radiance.

"Aa." his tease is all gone, replaced with something unique and akin to a careful gaze, fragile to show that he would never hurt her because she represents something that in his life of strict rules and regulations; she is his freedom and escape.

...

She stands by her locker, her brown hair in its usual buns, her hazel eyes still wide with curiosity and her lips in a neutral line. She blocks everything out from around her, she doesn't need to hear gossip about who was dancing with who at the dance last night, or who looked the best, who looked the worst. It's trivial and it doesn't matter but what her ears hear catches her attention in one fluid motion.

"Did you see them last night?" the brunette, - Tenten's age - whispers to her friend.

They are huddled close together, her blond hair mixing in with the brunette's chestnut locks; high voices in not-so-loud whispers. "Yeah, they were just so adorable, it was like they had _chemistry_."

It takes her a minute to realize what the subject is and what exactly they were talking about. It's her, and her partner, a duo who just seem to get each other.

Chemistry – is that what it was?

"Eavesdropping again Tenten?" he whispers quietly into her ear, tinted lavender irises watching the group of girls with distaste.

"No." she mutters, "It's not eavesdropping if they aren't even whispering or trying to hide the fact that they're gossiping about people."

"Aa." Neji says in an offhanded manner as he turns to his locker, spinning the dial on the lock.

And as the bell rings overhead, their hands interlink, their fingers intertwine and it's already done, no second thoughts and no regrets.

Maybe her reputation is slipping, maybe he might get into trouble with his rebellious breaking of rules and regulations but –

– they don't really care if all they're twined up in are each other.

* * *

Many thanks to Fran for beta-ing this!


End file.
